


centrum petere

by starri



Series: BAP bingo 2k15 [6]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Humor, Multi, completely unnecessary Monty Python reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4857497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starri/pseuds/starri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelo is missing and Jongup is new to all this “covert” business and Himchan is just <i>so done</i>. By the time the man he’s fighting stabs a knife into his side through his really nice shirt, he just straight up bitch slaps that rude ass little moron and yells “That was brand new, you son of a bitch.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	centrum petere

**Author's Note:**

> _centrum: latin, "center"_  
>  _petere: latin, "to seek"_  
> 
> _to seek center - or, centripetal force._
> 
>  
> 
> for spies prompt

It takes Himchan three minutes to enter the club, because he’s hot and he knows how to act hot around people that look likely to let him cut in line. Three girls with unnatural coloured hair and killer legs adopt him into their group and they step into the club together with a nod from the bouncers.

 

He buys all the girls drinks as thanks, and allows them to give him giggly kisses on his cheeks and down his neck. He pretends to be shy and they laugh and send him on his way. He got in an hour faster than he would have, and they got two rounds of free drinks. Win-win.

 

He’s getting too old for this though, he thinks as he looks around for Jongup, then mentally slaps himself. Hanging around Yongguk too much is definitely not good for his mojo. He’s starting to _think_ Yongguk.

 

He finds Jongup holding a full shot glass, hidden in the lee of a pillar. Himchan wants to applaud, the kid is learning. No drinking on the job, but use anything available to blend in.

 

He smiles, places a hand next to Jongup’s head on the pillar like he’s a stranger trying to find a bed partner for the night.

 

 _Tails?_ His other hand traces the words onto Jongup’s wrist, as the bass goes through his intestines and up his spine.

 

Jongup’s eyes darts to one corner of the club not far from where they stand.

 

_Three men_

 

_One woman_

 

Shit.

 

He grabs Jongup’s shot glass and downs the shot - the no drinking thing is more of a guideline for the younger ones anyways. He then leans in so that his lips are next to Jongup’s ear, “Play along.”

 

He kisses Jongup, swallowing his gasp of surprise. Come on, _play along_.

 

Jongup’s hands come up and grips his shoulder and waist, steering them around so that Himchan’s back is against the pillar and Jongup’s back is facing his tails. Himchan lets the kiss go on for a few seconds more, long enough to be convincing, but not long enough to draw attention from anyone that isn’t already watching. He pushes the warmth of the shot up through himself so that his face is nice and flushed. Then, he grabs hold of Jongup’s hair and presses down. Jongup takes the hint and ducks his head to nibble at Himchan’s neck.

 

Himchan leans his head back, letting his eyes open into slits and scans the area Jongup had glanced at earlier over the younger’s dark locks.

 

They aren’t hard to spot. The only one that seems to be a professional is the woman, but she has an aura of intimidation about her that stands out too much in a place where people come to unwind. One of the men is opening glaring a few stools away from the woman, and two more are sitting in a booth too awkwardly to be friends or lovers, and too stiffly to attract any advances from the party goers around them.

 

Their clothes fit the atmosphere though, so gangs, most likely.

 

Glaring Man looks ready to just up and grab them. The woman stays impassive, carefully angled away, but the other two are shooting Glaring Man warning glances. Himchan almost wants to laugh. This is going to be almost too easy.

 

He ups his expression of sexual gratification, even though Jongup is doing a miserable job of kissing his neck. He’s had a lot of practice with this sort of pretence after all. He moans and clutches at Jongup’s back until Glaring Man is almost fuming - because entertainment is hard to come by in his business and one has to make one’s own nowadays - before he pulls Jongup off him.

 

“That was a terrible idea.” Jongup tells him with a small pout, though his eyes twinkle with mirth, and Himchan laughs. He links their hands together and moves for one of the back exits.

 

 

Jongup and Himchan watch from the roof as Glaring Man and Awkward Number One bursts through the back exit less than about a minute later. They watch Glarey spits, “They’re not fuckin’ here.”

 

“Should we check around?” Awkward One asks voice low, “these roofs are pretty low, so if they’re good at climbing-“

 

“They were almost in each other’s pants, fuckin’ disgusting. They’ll be heading back to that posh ass hotel by now.”

 

The woman and Awkward Two step out too. Glarey rounds on them. “Fuckin’ lost them, this is what you get for being ‘covert’ instead of listening to what I say.”

 

The woman frowns. “Alright. The second one isn’t important anyways. I’ll check around this area, Chee, “ She nods at Awkward One “go back and help with transport, you two go stake out at the hotel.”

 

They nod and disperse, Glarey muttering obscenities under his breath.

 

Himchan and Jongup tail Awkward Chee.

 

Chee leads them an office area less than six minutes away. Shabby office buildings squat tightly together on the shabby streets. The first floors of the buildings are unanimously converted to little shop fronts. Little convenient stores that look like their wear hasn’t been changed in decades, with the occasional tiny hair salons with badly lighted signs doting the blocks. Chee talks with more hoodied figures and gets on a van. They drive off rapidly towards the edge of the urban sprawl.

 

Jongup looks impressed when Himchan hotwires a car in less than twenty seconds. He looks decided less impressed at Himchan’s overtly careful tailing. One day, Himchan reminds himself, he needs to have that talk with the kid about subtly, and make him copy the dictionary definition of “covert” a few hundred times.

 

The car eventually stops in the mouth of a warehouse, dark and foreboding. Even two blocks away, the lanky figure unloaded limply between two gangsters is very familiar. Himchan is suddenly glad of Zelo’s over the top – but easily identifiable - hairstyle.

 

Himchan is just about to shift gear so that they can circle the block more discreetly when Jongup releases the safety on his guns, steps out of the car and slips into the shadows without a word. Himchan blinks a moment at the vacant seat Jongup was in, and then curses – softly – and parks – hurriedly.

 

 

 

The first gunshot rings out when Himchan’s half way between their stolen car and the warehouse. He briefly allowed himself the pleasure of imagining the yelling he’s going to bestow on Jongup later as he starts sprinting towards the muzzle flashes, careful to stay behind the cover of haphazardly parked pickup trucks.

 

Who’s he kidding though, he thinks sadly, as he tackles the closest figure to the ground and puts a bullet through their face, he can never yell at Jongup. The kid is too cute when he’s not massacring street gangs.

 

 

It’s really not his day. Fighting isn’t his preferred method of negotiation. And all the frustrations of the past few weeks are all beginning to burn into a fierce anger as more and more men tries to part Himchan with important bits of his body.

 

By the time the man he’s fighting stabs a knife into his side through his really nice shirt, he just straight up bitch slaps that rude ass little moron and yells “That was brand new, you son of a bitch.” The man startles, obviously confused by Himchan’s apparently lack of self-preservation and enraged clawing motions that substitute actual fighting techniques. The confusion probably saved Himchan’s life, as the man only manages to a few more weak swipes with his knife before Jongup puts a bullet in his back. The younger grabs him and squeezes both of them behind a space between some crates and the warehouse wall. Bullets ping around them, an aria over the baseline of pained groans from those injured and struggling grotesquely on the floor.

 

“Hyung, leave the fighting to me or actually use your gun.” Jongup says reproachfully, calmly reloading his remaining gun and completely unflustered that he just emptied two clips into half a street gang. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

 

“I am seriously hurt, you ungrateful dongsaeng.” Himchan hisses at him, sliding an arm and an eye over the edge of the crates and shooting an advancing figure before ducking back behind again.

 

“’tis but a flesh wound,” Jongup says lightly, before executing a lightning fast shoulder roll out of cover, ignoring Himchan’s gasp of surprise that turns into an exclamation of agitated fury on the exhale. His roll ends in a sideways dive, his gun firing rapidly as he skids behind another cluster of crates to the background of Himchan’s angry yelling.

 

“ _Jesus on a diet_ , if you die trying to be idiotically heroic after quoting Monty Python at me, Moon Jongup, I will personally make sure you are buried with ‘ _tis but a flesh wound_ ’ carved into your fucking headstone so your idiocy will haunt you for a million years in the afterlife _god damn it_.”

 

He realizes his yelling is no longer accompanied by gunshots. Himchan peers around his crate carefully. There doesn’t seem to be any more upright figures, but someone could be hiding beh-

 

Jongup steps out from behind his crates and runs to where the van that still stands in the mouth of the warehouse. Himchan cusses, but when no vengeful shots run out, follows more slowly, putting a bullet through the head of any body that doesn’t look dead enough.

 

Holy shit. Jongup actually did it. Himchan always thought the side-dive shooting thing only works in movies but. Wow.

 

“Hyung, he’s - he’s not waking?” for the first time that night since he called Himchan for help, Jongup sounds panicked. He’s giving Zelo’s shoulder light but insistent shakes.

 

“He’s drugged.” Himchan says, pressing on his bleeding side because the pain intensity is starting to reach the ‘burn’ level. “Eyelids are not flickering, sweating too much, he smells like sedatives too, and Chemists are careful not to spill. So someone else injected him.”

 

“Hyung, you’re bleeding.”

 

“Thanks, I haven’t noticed.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“’ _Tis but a fucking flesh wound,_ now get the kid in the car and let’s get out of here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Uppie, come here.” Himchan instructs as he parks in a relatively quiet street just on the edge of the business district. Youngjae’s hotel is only a few blocks away, he can see the roof of it towering over the surrounding apartment complexes.

 

Jongup leans over, and Himchan gives him a sniff.

 

“Buy some alcohol from that store we just past.”

 

“I don’t think you should drink, hyung, I know it hurts but-“

 

“I’m not going to drink it, I’m going to pour it over you so you don’t smell like a slaughter house when you carry our little Chemist through the lobby of a hotel.”

 

“Oh.” Jongup says, head tilting and eyes considerate. “That’s very clever.”

 

“Thanks,” Himchan replies dryly “now are you going to go or should we wait until I bleed out.”

 

Jongup just chuckles at him, accepting the bills he’s holding out and steps out of their car, “Don’t be so dramatic, hyung.”

 

 

Climbing the fire escape is exquisite torture. But joining Jongup and Zelo and trekking through the interior of the hotel is out of the questions when he leaves puddles of blood when he stands still for more than a few seconds, which he often does because one of his legs is beginning to protest very angrily after a night of excursion and running on adrenaline. The dread he’s kept at bay with constant movement is catching up to him. Oh god, Yongguk, Daehyun –

 

He climbs another step, willing himself not to fall over and raps on the window of Youngjae’s room, four stories up.

 

Youngjae might not even open the window for him, for the same reason Himchan didn’t call Youngjae first. Yongguk, Daehyun – maybe he should have contacted them first – maybe-

 

The window slides open, startling Himchan. He makes a mental note to talk to Youngjae about parameter checking after all this.

 

“Kim Sumbaenim.” Youngjae greets him with apprehension crystallizing off every syllable. And suddenly Himchan is so very, very tired.

 

“Save the bullshit,” he says, the adrenaline and fear and the stench of blood that would not leave him all winds up inside, mixing foully with each other and drains him of life – but he needs to do this. He needs to get Youngjae to at least let the younger two in, even if Himchan dies here tonight ---

 

Youngjae, face resigned and grim, but hands steady and warm, grasps Himchan’s arms firmly and drags him into the welcoming gloom of his hotel room.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love AU's and I love spy movies, I have about eight spy au's lying around in my wip folder. I reworked the oldest one for this week's prompt. 
> 
> Originally intended for just after chapter 4 of the [inception AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3072521?view_full_work=true), scraped at the time because I thought it moved away from the main plot.  
> but I think it reads well on it's own too.


End file.
